and walk in it.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMXV)


O wherefore do I echo Job? to hail
"My soul is weary of my life--" from hence
As ver'ly true and what dogs me fr'intents
Now Mum is not, nor any lover?  They'll
Arraign me for it, doubtless, cuz t'avail
I still have joys, smile for the sparrows, fence
These posting hour with prayrs He'd give me thence
Unto a husband, aye to bear kids' tale.
And come, why does my path dissolve as twere
Each step I take? aught moments passed gone to
Obliv'on whilst my fingers grapple for (in puir
'Scuse) all I seemed to have?  March skies are blue
Sans clouds, the caller breath mild as it'd stir
Trees' naked boughs to trembling, and where to?

15Mar18a

...in more ways than you realize.



(sonnet #MMMMMMDCCCLIII)


Come, wherefore dredge up Tolkien's silly tale,
With that girabbit hard in tow, as hence
The Scriptures count off Ehud and how thence
He judged ya, Isr'el, killing in betrayl
That fat, fat king ole Eglon to avail,
Me seeing lost visions of the shire for sense,
And Mister Bliss' adventures rising whence
I canna say why, to trip 'long as bail?!
From movies of far distant climes in tour,
With savage ninjas, or the sixties too
And student riots, loss, *** as it were
Their capping triumph of that mixt-up view,
Have I a minute to drift off, all's poor--
Yet why see fables when I half hear You?

01Jan18b

Handshake claw grip, crustaceans with an overstatement,

Never distressed with a sober sense spent on aimless wastage,

Never become too complacent,

Never butter devil's sodden words on scriptures burned through the ages,

Certain pages curtain stages grace to shattered shambles curdled shameless.

Shiny geodes the traditions on the backhand,

Sages matching matter sets a salamandrine babble balance act,

Skin tight ever-bond clasped reattachment,

Radical bags sag at the mystery of a mattress ,

Routine carry forth enabling of double standards,

Tailored youth to a callous canvassed pander *******,

Cat scratch moral compass to the badlands,

The pinnacle of rabid actions in the aftermath,

After that,

A rabbit or a lab rat,

Maze running side effects from the last batch,

No lessons learned just oblivious to brass tax,

Malleable malice in the marrow of the crab man,

Can't stand a phalanx divided by the last laugh,

******* sinner Peter chapters in the chapel of a hashtag,

Shadows in the chiaroscuro flit mongers little gas lamps,

Calypso rhythm stages a symphony of backstabs,

Coup d'etat passive damage scatters gravel slat in sandbags,

No matter shiny medal coiled vertebrae permeate the flashbacks,

Never with a sordid memory retraced to get a plaque stamped.

It's funny how I actually love how you reason with me, instructing me and turning me back where I belong.


(sonnet #MMMMMMDXLIV)


Friends.  While soft blue skies gently fade, peach thence
Upon the heels of all we knew t'avail,
Ne wind now but a whisper that'd exhale
Twixt silent leaves ah, search the keener sense
Of:  that.  From Jonathan and David whence
We see lives traded cuz of that detail,
To what I knew with Mum, to in betrayl
My darling brothers, to yes, you, come hence.
The LORD called us His friends if we'd ah, fer
All that, keep His commands, yea told us too
What He shall do within this world as twere,
And love, forsooth, is crucial in that cue.
So then?  We love, and yield our lives in tour:
For friends, as skies turn now a deeper blue.

07Aug17b

She painted him a sky without seams
In the viscous darkness of disruptions
Slowed slurred by lullabies of suffering
She gave away to glorified night sanctified
Whilst the warmth of juxtaposition clings
Morning yawns in contiguity of his arms
Brutal destructive hurricane claimed her crown
He'd be the healer of pain crawling broken and shame
Trapped she struggled with some consecrate demons
Lifted up the smoke paradox from his mouldering mind
Written in the scriptures she is rain nestled in the clouds
Exculpated the gray prisoner he never took the blame

When I let my eyes

fall
           into
                       its
                               wisdom

I don’t hear my voice
inside but

an angelic Lily Afshar
playing guitar with her eyes
closed

gently

and singing

note perfect

in the Irish flute voice
of that shaven-headed girl
who tore a photo of
some pope

The dancing of meaning
inside somewhere
changes me like …

nothing I can describe

and I can’t say
what I want except
to be prophetwise
and to gain Your smile

So I read and

sink
             within
                           its
                                    magic